


A Bit(ty) of Something Up Ahead

by Vivalavidapasta



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bittybones (Undertale), Fluff, Gen, Implied abuse, Me and my bitty pun titles, Slice of Life, a lot of swearing, reader works at a bitty rescue shelter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:07:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27920503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vivalavidapasta/pseuds/Vivalavidapasta
Summary: Running a bitty rescue shelter is hard. But it’s so worth it to give the lil guys life again.
Relationships: Sans (Undertale) & Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32
Collections: It's Snowing Somewhere Else: An Undertale Themed Secret Santa 2020!





	A Bit(ty) of Something Up Ahead

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Annika0130](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annika0130/gifts).



Caring for bitties could either be easy or hard, in your opinion. You could just put em in a cage, give em food and water and then leave them to their own machinations. Easy. 

But you prefer the hard way. 

You show that in how you react to your newest rescue, an edgy that’s clearly been through hell and back. He bites you, scratches you, tries to rip your flesh off as you try to gently but firmly scoop him up out of the gutters. 

You can’t judge the people who called about him too hard. He has pretty sharp chompers. You know this because you can’t feel your fingers as you drive. He shouts profanities at you in the carrier you put him in, strapped onto the passengers seat. 

His swearing devolves into crying. Luckily, you reach your destination a bit after that. You carefully scoop him out and carry him in.

“Whatcha gonna do, huh!? Scold me? Call my owners? Dust me!? I know what happens to bad bitties! Do your FUCKIN WORSE!” He screams at you as you try to discreetly move to the back, hoping not to wake up the residents. 

Of course, your efforts are in vain and his screaming wakes up a bunch. You can see the shop almost light up with hundreds of little eyelights on you and the newcomer. 

You brought him into the back towards the sink and started up the warm water, petting him gently as he cried limply in your hand. Your mind flashes back to rescue protocol. 

Step one, check for any fatal injuries. Remove the clothes as necessary for inspection. If so, immediately go to the vet. 

You look carefully at the bitty, gently pulling down his shirt to check his ribs and back. Nothing. You check his head. Nothing. 

Step two, check for any severe injuries. Anything gashed, form or broken. If so, determine whether to go to the vet or to fix it by your own means.

Other than rough scruffing and a crack within his eye, he seems pretty fine. What a relief. He seems to be calming down now, breathing heavily as he comes to his senses and glares at you.

Step three, if the bitty is well enough to bathe or severely contaminated, wash and sanitize. Be gentle and use clean equipment. 

With the water running warm and your “dirty bitty” bowl ready, you move on to step 3. Smiling, you gently tug on the small spingy jacket he’s wearing. 

“Hello there. Can you remove your clothes for me, dear?” You ask him. He snorts and spits up at you. “Fucking dust me. I ain’t drowning today, fucker.” He growls.

Your smile twitches but you keep at it. “I can wash it for you. It seems like it’s a bit ripped.” He glares at you.... before huffing and taking it off. 

“Fine... but ya better not fucking steal it! Or break it more!.... and you better not fucking watch me like a weirdo!” He growls out. You give a small chuckle and a much more relaxed smile. “Of course. Just put it in a pile and tell me when you’re done.” 

You give him a small towel and turn around, putting your hands together, patiently waiting. You can hear the tiny pitters of a bitty walking and you can see a few little heads popping from the corner, trying and failing to be discreet. You stiffen a laugh and pretend to not see the little voyeurs. 

“Aight! ‘M done.” You turn around again to see the edgy, wrapped in the towel and looking away. You nod and open a drawer, pulling out a small ziplock bag. After depositing his clothes- the edgy jacket, very torn up pants and a disintegrating shirt- in the bag, you take out a sharpie and write down EDGY- 

“Oh, um, what’s your name?” You ask him. He flushes in anger before biting at the towel in a small tantrum. You let him finish- which only lasted 30 seconds- before he calmed down again to raspily tell you “Strawberry”. 

Ohhh, you see. You write EDGY- SBERRY for short and then put the bag into a basket with other bitty clothes. Then you turn back to him. “Alright, time for a washing.”

He grips his towel and growls at you. “Don’t you fucking dare! Whatcha gonna do? Scratch at me? Put me in one of those fucking spinning shit things!?” 

You squint. “Um, no. I don’t know what you’re talking about but usually when I bathe a bitty, I sit them in this small bowl.” You raise up said bowl, soapy water splashing out of it into the sink before putting it down. 

“Then I wash them off with this sponge” you show him the specific sponge you use, already sudsy and soft with water. 

“Then I rinse them and dry them with a towel or in a drying booth.” You explain. He squints at you. “The fucks a drying booth!?” 

You sigh. “How bout I tell you after you’re washed?” 

He stares down at the bowl... and then you.... before grumbling and getting into the sink. “Whatever... but cha gonna lose a finger if you do any nasty shit!!” He threatens. 

You smile and pick up the sponge. “Of course. Here, let me help you.” You offer a hand to him. He huffs but climbs on. You carry him and then gently plop him into the bowl. He experimentally waves his hands in the water, pushing bubbles and suds all around. 

You start gently rubbing his head with the sponge, the dirt and muck already starting to run off. He makes a noise but continues to let you wash him. Soon the bowl is a brown as you scrub off all the filth from him. 

“Alright, now to rinse. Just climb up again” you offer a hand to him. He lazily climbs onto you, grumbling half heartedly. You put the sponge down and pour the bowl out before grabbing the handle of the shower head, pulling it out and gentle rinsing him off. He squirms a bit but soon enough, you’re done. 

You wrap him in a fresh towel. “Alright, do you want the drying booth? Basically, I put you in a lil cubby that has a nice warm dryer passing air through it. You’ll get dry in no time.” You tell him. 

He fusses with the towel a bit.... “alright I guess.” You carry him over to the drying booth, opening the cubby and putting him in. He looks at the cage like cubby and panics. “HEY, IM NOT LIVING IN A FUCKING CAGE!”

“Hey hey hey, it’s not! It’s temporary and it’s just so you don’t fall out, alright? Just get comfy and I’ll come back within 5 minutes.” You try to assure him as you close it and set up the dryer. Once it’s in place, you turn it on.

A gentle yet warm breeze starts filling the cubby. Yet, the edgy glares at you. You give him a smile and then leave him be. You got some bitties to tuck into bed again.

——————

Strawberry is fucking pissed. Great. Another fucking pet shop that’s caught him. At least this one didn’t dunk him into bleach. And used warm water. But still, they’re probably gonna call his “owners” and he’ll get starved even longer.

Why can’t those shit ass humans just leave him alone!? If he could live in the wild, he fucking would. 

With those thoughts, he drifts off in the warmth. 

Only to be awoken by that fucking human again. 

——-

“Wake up sleepy head” you say to the edgy. Groaning, he slowly gets up. “Fuuuck, what is it?”

You open the cubby and show him a small garb. “Here, you can wear these until your clothes are done washing.” Grunting, he rips it away from you and stare at it. 

It looks like a fucking dress! Mint green and ugly, yuck. He wouldn’t be caught dead wearing these but.... it’s all he has. 

Begrudgingly, he puts them on and he hates to admit... it feels comfortable. 

You clap your hands. “Good! Now, I’m going to bring you to the common sleeping place and we’ll talk to your owners in the morning, alright?” 

In the morning? Huh.... “aight.” He shrugs and just climbs into your hand again. He is kinda tired...

You carry him from the back to the front, one of the lamps on next to a pen. You bring him over and he sees a lot of bitties in there. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think they were all dead in a pile. 

You put him down and he feels how fucking s o f t it is, holy shit. It’s like he’s stepping on a cloud, a warm cloud. He yawns and starts to lay down. It won’t hurt if he just....

Sleeps


End file.
